


Resurrection

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: tumblr ficlets [18]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fix-It, Getting Together, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 19:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Harry comes face-to-face with a ghost.Or, how Kingsman 3 should start.





	Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: “Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years!”

“Don’t get angry.”

Harry stares at the man sitting nonchalantly on his counter. “Don’t get angry?” he repeats. “ _Don’t get angry?_ Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years!”

Merlin jabs the spoon at him, “First of all, don’t be so dramatic. I have not eaten _all_ your cereal. You still have half a box left.” Harry sputters, and Merlin speaks over him, “Second of all, you faked your death for two years. You really don’t have a leg to stand on.”

“Neither do you.” The bad joke is out of Harry’s mouth before he can help it. He’s nervous, and sometimes when he gets nervous his mouth runs away from him. Merlin glances down at where the smooth metal prosthetics are peeking out from under his trouser legs, and gives a little shrug. Harry shakes himself and adds, “And I didn’t _fake my death_. I was shot in the head. Then I was in a coma, then I had amnesia. You cannot honestly _blame_ me for that.”

“I got blown up by a fucking landmine. I apologize for inconveniencing you.”

“Inconveniencing me? I thought you were _dead_. I grieved! We had a funeral!”

“I’m sure the turnout was amazing,” Merlin says sarcastically. “Yes, the dead workaholic from a secret organization and the two people he actually considered friends who _aren’t_ dead.”

“You have no idea,” Harry says. He’s trying very hard not to lose his temper. He doesn’t understand how Merlin can be so calm about this. Through his teeth, he hisses, “The entire bloody tech department was there. Most of the handlers. Roxy was practically in a full body cast and _she_ made it. And even if none of them had come, even if you weren’t the glue that held this bloody mess of a covert organization together, _I_ still would have come. Don’t I count for something?” He resists the urge to punch something (maybe Merlin. Maybe the fridge) and curls his fingers into fists, resting them on the empty space next to Merlin on the counter. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against the wooden cabinets because he can’t look at his best friend of over thirty years right now. His best friend who had died without knowing how Harry felt, who Harry had mourned for and prayed for and begged all the gods he didn’t believe in to get back. His best friend, who was now sitting in his kitchen, eating fucking cereal, of all things.

Merlin’s hand covers Harry’s. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” Harry repeats bitterly.

“If it’s any consolation, I did almost die.”

“How the hell is that supposed to be a consolation?”

Merlin shrugs. “How?” Harry asks. “You were in the middle of the jungle in Cambodia. I _know_ Statesman didn’t pick you up, because if they had we would have known about it. Don’t tell me we’ve got some Asian cousin agency we don’t know about.”

Merlin laughs, “Nothing like that, no. Statesmen sent an anonymous tip to the government, and when the US sent in their troops to clear up Poppyland, they found me. I was bleeding out, had a hell of a head trauma. Apparently, it was touch and go for a while; they didn’t think I was going to make it. Eventually they got me stabilized, but like I said, the head trauma was extensive. Must have hit my head on a rock or something. Mind, it’s nothing compared to being shot through the eye, but I didn’t have Statesman Alpha Gel to patch me up.” He smiles, like that’s supposed to be funny, and Harry can’t quite help the smile that blooms on his lips before he forces it away again. Merlin looks away, “Anyhow, I was comatose for…oh, probably two years. Then, after I woke up, I had to go through physical therapy to learn how to bloody walk again, and by the time I got around to that, it had been three years.”

“But you remembered.”

“Yes.”

Harry slams his hand against the counter, “Damn it, you could have phoned.”

“A lot could have happened in three years, Harry. I wasn’t about the risk the safety of the agency to reassure myself.”

“Merlin…”

Merlin’s hand releases Harry’s, and instead cups his cheek, turning Harry’s head to look at him. “I wasn’t going to compromise you, Harry. If you were still alive, and I hoped you were, but I didn’t…I couldn’t be sure, then I wasn’t going to put you or the agency we both _literally gave our lives for_ in harm’s way.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat, because Merlin looks so damn sincere. He doesn’t say anything, because if he does, he might cry.

“I’m not asking for your forgiveness,” Merlin says softly. “But I am asking for another chance.”

Harry does not sniffle, he does not. He clears his throat, “I wasn’t aware you had expended the first one.”

Merlin smiles. And then, because Merlin’s hand is on his face and Harry has waited _years_ to do this, he reaches up and drags Merlin down to his level, kissing him fiercely. Merlin stiffens in surprise for a moment, and then he kisses back.

They only break apart at the insistent barking coming from somewhere near Harry’s right leg, where a little terrier is yipping and trying to get their attention. “Hello, there,” Merlin murmurs when Harry picks up the dog, taking him out of Harry’s hands for a cuddle. “I remember you.” He looks up at Harry, “Did you give him a name?”

Harry coughs, “Hamish.”

Merlin blinks. “You named your dog after me?”

“Yes, well, I did think you were dead at the time. It seemed appropriate.”

There’s silence for a few seconds, and then Merlin throws back his head and laughs. “At least it’s better than Mr. Pickle.”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me again.”

“As you wish.”


End file.
